


The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!

by covertCalligrapher



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, another AU, with blind prophets and sighted seers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covertCalligrapher/pseuds/covertCalligrapher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running away from home as a bright boy with your soft friend and your clever comrade to escape the life you don't like, didn't quite go as you had originally planned. Blind prophets with sharp smiles, smart men with angry souls, and golden girls with suns in their eyes turned out to be the least of your problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bright Boy and His Clever Comrades

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, just letting you know I made a playlist to go with this on [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/covertcalligrapher/the-predatory-wasp-of-the-palisades-is-out-to-get-us). Listen to it while reading. I do.
> 
> Oh, admiration in falling asleep  
> All of my powers, day after day  
> I can tell you, we swaggered and swayed  
> Deep in the tower, the prairies below  
> I can tell you, the telling gets old  
> Terrible sting and terrible storm  
> I can tell you the day we were born
> 
> "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!"- Sufjan Stevens

 

**1: The Bright Boy and His Clever Comrades**

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you don't like being outside. You also do not enjoy the summer. The sun hurts your eyes and the small bits of flora seem to be able to creep their way up your nostrils and irritate them. The bugs that bite and the ones that spin webs for you to get tangled in also do not appeal to your more indoors-oriented interests.

 

So why you chose this particular season to distance yourself form your home and become “one with the fucking wilderness” is something you have been asking yourself ever since you left your home. Your home life is nothing to brag about, but it was by no means bad. You love your father, though you are frustrated with him for a large portion your time.

 

He said something, did something to set you off and you'd screamed that you were leaving. Like a woman scorned, you stormed to your room and packed your items into a backpack. Socks, shoes, underwear, pants, shirts, your soap, your savings, your electronics, and, as a last thought, the shitty necklace your father gave you for some reason you can't remember,

 

You'd hiked your way out of your house. Hiked all the way to Gamzee's house. Called Sollux. Told him to get his ass over with enough shit to last him the summer.

 

Sollux arrived and you told them the game plan.

 

“Okay, we are going on a trip,” you'd said, showing them your make-shift survival kit.

 

“What?” Sollux asked, incredulous. Gamzee sat there with a lazy smile on his face.

 

“We are going to take Gamzee's car and rough it for the summer. Go on a goddamned road trip. Find ourselves,” you'd proclaimed, dumping your pack's contents so they could study what to pack. Your chain was in your pocket.

 

“I can see ourselves perfectly fine. And we are right _here_ ,” Sollux stated, obviously objecting your soul-searching journey.

 

Gamzee, however, was all for it. As the money and car you were going to be using, he was the real deciding factor as to whether or not you were to become one with the wilderness. So, it was decided that the three of you would leave right away. Gamzee had absentee parents, Sollux's parents put up a fight that Gamzee assured them was nothing to worry for.

 

You didn't tell your dad. You knew he wasn't going to call the police, you've run away before. You're going to write him, though. Mail him post cards from wherever you get to.

 

Gamzee raids his closet for all of his camping, hiking, swimming, bee-catching, you-name-it-he's-got-it supplies and stuffs them in his van. The hulking gray monstrosity seems barely able to support its own weight, let alone 400 pounds of camping shit.

 

You have to talk Gamzee out of bringing a pair of skis with you.

 

“Gamzee, what use will we have for fucking _skis_ in the summer?”

 

He just patted your head and took them into the house. When he returned, he packed one in the van, saying you never know when you'll need it.

 

“Goddammit Gamzee, it does not snow in the summer!” You'd tried to yank the ski from the van, but Gamzee held you at bay, patting and holding you until you'd calmed down enough to not want to pop holes in his tires.

 

Sollux had said no the entire time, laid on piles of things, made himself completely useless, but he let the two of you throw him onto the mattress in the back of the van and slam the door. You and Gamzee had sat in the front seat, driving away from his house.

 

You regret leaving home already, but your pride will not allow you back into your house. You need to prove something, and you're not quite sure what. Maybe you'll find it out in the next three months.

 

–

You have been driving for 7 hours.

 

This was a terrible idea.

 

“This was a terrible idea,” Sollux groans yet again from the back of the van.

 

Your face twitches, your hands shake. You look at Gamzee at the wheel, nodding his smiling head to a beat only he can hear.

 

“Sollux, complain one more time and I will stab you in the throat.” Your body is twisted all the way around, glaring at him from over the headrest.

 

He's brisk and smug, a sharp streak of white amidst the packs and sacks of the back. “Tell me again why we're going on a soul-search? I have college to think about, you know.”

 

“Fuck you, you were going to take a year off anyway,” your voice is grating and angry. Splashes of rage boil up and dowse your words with acid.

 

Sollux is unfazed. “Just because I actually have a future is no reason to be angry with my KK.”

 

“Gamzee, pull over. I'm going slit his throat!” And with that you dive into the backseat as Gamzee pulls over to the side of the road.

 

“Shit! GZ, why the fuck did you pull over!” Sollux screeches, batting you away with extreme flailing motions.

 

You make a move for his shitty 3-D glasses. “You have not seen a 3-D movie since we were 12!”

 

His flails and slaps become more urgent as he attempts to keep you away from his face. “Not the face! Not my _glasses_!”

 

You're about to grab them before the side door opens and Gamzee pulls you out. You are a ball of rage, pure fury leaking from your pores. You're acrid and bitter, biting and kicking to get the clown off of you.

 

He holds you away from the car and drops you on the ground, sharp grass and pointy rocks jabbing into your exposed flesh. You lay there for a few moments, breathing hard. When you can muster the energy, you push yourself up and brush the small pebbles out of your skin.

 

Gamzee is smiling happily at you and Sollux is looking frightened and undignified inside of the van.

 

You run a hand through your wiry hair a few times, taking deep breaths through your nose. “Alright. Okay. I'm calm. I'm _calm_ , goddammit.”

 

“Brother, we're in a town now. I like the look of this one. Let's set up camp or get a room so the dark don't seem so bad,” Gamzee says, lazily clapping your shoulder with one of his massive hands. “Maybe get our chow on, too?”

 

Sollux raises his hand in favor of that idea as soon as the words pertaining to food and sleep are out of Gamzee's mouth.

 

You say Sollux can go and eat the mattress.

 

Gamzee just pats you some more and asks if you wanna walk into town or park the car there.

 

Your drag your hands down your face, finding difficulty seeing in the darkening air. “Alright, we'll take the car in and maybe after eating I'm not going to want to kill that _dipshit_ ,” you proclaim, your finger stretching towards Sollux.

 

Gamzee lifts you before you can attempt to inflict damage on your so-called _friend_ and puts you back in your seat. He even goes so far as to buckle you securely in. Gamzee assumes his place at the wheel and drives you into the small mountain town.

 

It lies in a valley with a thick surrounding forest. You first pass a sign that proclaims in large curling script “Welcome to Sun Falls!” You then pass a second sign that looks more worn and is obviously handmade that states “Sun Falls Summer Camp! Please see Police Station for Enrollment or Work forms!”

 

Well, fuck that shit.

 

Gamzee drives past them and into a the parking lot of what you think is the only diner in town. He parks the van and the three of you enter the establishment of questionable sanitation.

 

Inside, there is a long counter and a women who looks like she's straight from the movies. A bun of blonde hair under a net, pink collared shirt and a checkered apron make her seem like the every waitress.

 

When she speaks, her voice is thick with the local accent. She calls you darling as she asks the three of you what you want. Sollux orders waffles at 10 o'clock at night. You get a sandwich or something. “Surprise me,” you say, frustrated and tired.

 

She smiles kindly at you and asks Gamzee what he wants. “I'll take whatever you up and bring my friend here.” Gamzee pats your back for the 8,000th time and settles further into the backed stools that line the long counter.

 

“KK, tell me again why we're here,” Sollux asks eventually.

 

Your head is cradled in your arms. “Because I thought it would be a good idea to torture ourselves with journeying during the three most hellish months of the year,” you say, peeking out over your arms.

 

“Couldn't we have done some, I don't know, _funner?”_ Sollux asks, his disgusting lisp spitting and rasping at you.

 

“We could try to get arrested,” you offer, placing your head back in the arch of your arms.

 

“Something that's not so expensive.” Sollux is either clarifying what he meant by more fun, or saying that getting arrested would be too expensive. You are inclined to agree that getting arrested would be extremely expensive.

 

“Well, we could try to get a job at that camp we saw on our way into the town,” Gamzee suggests in what is either an extreme moment of clarity or insanity.

 

“Gamzee, did you bring your medication with you? Did you remember to take it today?” you ask, worrying about the mental state of your poor, insane friend.

 

Gamzee smiles, closed and soft. “Shit bro, I wouldn't forget that. And there's a drug store in town I can fill my self up with.”

 

You put your head back on the counter. “Good. Great. Fucking fantastic.”

 

Sollux does not think this is good. “Wait, are you two actually suggesting we stay here and get a job?”

 

“I get a good feeling about this place, brother,” Gamzee states simply and you'll fight it out with him in the morning.

 

Sollux, however, is perfectly content to go at it now. “Where are we going to stay? We are not getting a job at a summer camp. They're probably not hiring anymore. How are we going to pay for anything? How are we going to pay for the food we just ordered?”

 

“Sollux, shut the fuck up. We will use our money to pay for this meal. We will sleep in that goddamned van if we have to. Gamzee will pay for gas. We are fine money-wise. If worse comes to worst, Gamzee will just use some of the massive fortune his father has amassed and will not miss,” you say to placate the angry teen. You are tired and want to eat and want to sleep. You want a lot of things, but that doesn't mean you'll always get it.

 

The waitress arives shortly after with your food. You watch, sickened, as Sollux eats something sweet this late at night.

 

The waitress stays and chats with you while the three of you eat. “So, are you boys in town for the camp or for our own local legend?”

 

Sollux attempts to actually eat the plate while you listen to her words. “What legend?” you ask, your sandwich suddenly less appealing.

 

She looks pleased to have gotten your attention. She leans in further and talks more quietly. “We have a bit of a psychic in our town. A few years ago, people started getting letters or items that were about their futures. Sure enough, the things the stuff predicted came true.”

 

Gamzee is interested. Sollux is still hungry and eats your fries. “Wait, so you're saying there's, like, a fairy or some shit living around here?” Gamzee asks in wonderment.

 

The waitress nods. “Something. Like a spirit who tells people their futures. Most don't understand the stuff it leaves until it happens.”

 

Gamzee is enthralled. “Sis, are you telling me we can get our futures read to us.”

 

“No, you dipshit,” you say. “She's saying there's a ghost or something that leaves clues to fuck with people's lives.”

 

The waitress does not seem too keen on your language and asks that you two stop it kindly, thank you very much.

 

Sollux, emerging from his food-induced frenzy, joins the conversation. “What is this about psychics?”

.

The waitress turns her attention towards him. “Well, your friend here thinks it's a hoax.” She rummages around in her pocket and produces something that looks like the shard of a plate. “I got this a few days ago and yesterday one of our bus boys broke half of the dishes in the place.”

 

“Doesn't that happen, like, everyday, though,” you ask, not convinced in the least.

 

“Only in moves, dear,” she answers.

 

Gamzee continues to ask her questions about what she confirms is called “The Blind Prophet.” Blind because when things are written, they're written horribly.

 

You think this is a shitty reason.

 

After a while, you can't take it anymore and ask about the camp. She says they're looking for a few last-minute counselors and will put kids up in their supervisor cabins. You say that's fantastic, because you're going to have to stay here if Gamzee wants to.

 

And shit, Gamzee says he's gonna move here. It's full of miracles and secrets, things that don't go bump in the night, but rather play under the stars. Things that tell your future and things that show you what it all means.

 

You pay for your food and leave. She gives you the name of a motel where you can stay for the night. Gamzee drives you there and Sollux complains the entire way. He says this is dumb, this is a bad idea, this is a local ruse meant to fool you out of your money with promises of fake prophets.

 

You take the bed in the room. Gamzee decides it'll be awesome to take it with you and ends up snoring on you the entire night. Sollux snores on the floor.

 

The next morning, Gamzee gets you all up and drags you to the police station. You ask for three applications to enroll as a counselor for that summer camp thing and he gives you three thick packets of paper and a slip of paper with directions on it. Gamzee drives you to the location while you and Sollux fill out the three applications.

 

At the main base of the camp, there are rows of cabins circling a large fire pit. A sign welcomes you to the camp.

 

Gamzee parks and the three of you walk into a tall, thin cabin that is marked as the administrative building. Inside, there is a tall, thin, pale woman wearing sunglasses.

 

She looks up from her desk and smiles at the three of you. She looks back to what she was doing and then stands up.

 

“You three are here to work?” she asks, her voice clear and cheery. You get close and see she has freckles.

 

You haul the stack of papers onto her desk and she eyes them respectfully. “What gave you that idea?”

 

She laughs and ruffles through them, looking at your names. “Karkat, Gamzee, and Sollux?You're all eighteen or over?”

 

You nod.

 

“Let me guess, you're Karkat,” she says, pointing to you.

 

“Bingo, you got it,” you say with little interest. She smiles at you.

 

“I'm Babe, by the way,” she states. She blessedly does not offer her hand to you.

 

“We were up and passing through your town here, looking for something to do during this summer and we found your camp,” Gamzee explains without prompt.

 

Sollux applies his hand harshly to his head. You try to step on Gamzee's foot but you doubt he feels any of it.

 

“Well that's as good a reason as any to stop in.” She looks you three up and down. Down in your case, up in Gamzee's.

 

“Welp,” she says after a bit. Her hand is on her chin. “Why don't you boys tell me what you're good at.”

 

The question catches you off guard. It had a spot on the application, but you'd dutifully ignored it. “Well, Gamzee can handle arts and crafts?” you say eventually.

 

Gamzee says that yes, yes he can. The woman asks if he wants to help with the craft hut. Gamzee says he'd love to get his craft on. She says he's hired.

 

Sollux says he's good with insects, if that's any help. She says she's been looking for someone who wants to help with the nature walks and the insect sorting trips. Sollux says sure, he can handle that.

 

She looks at you and you can't think of anything to say to her. She keeps looking before asking if you'd like to come along as a cabin supervisor, she needs an extra for all the last-minute attendees.

 

“It's not like I'm needed anywhere else,” you grumble in acceptance of her offer.

 

Her face is kind and her words soft. “You're needed _there_ , darling.”

 

She takes the three of you in the back to give you your uniforms. Three polo shirts each. The shirts are yellow with the camp name stitched into it. She asks for a deposit on the shirts, if you return them to her in good condition at the end of the summer, you get your money back.

 

You pay the woman and she shows you to your beds in the counselors' cabin. She says she'll leave you alone to unpack your things and get situated.

 

The three of you go out to Gamzee's van and unpack the things you want. You bring the stuff inside while Gamzee drives the van into the employee parking lot.

 

“So KK, doesn't this seem a bit odd to you?” Sollux asks as the two on you fill your issued chests with your personals.

 

You look up from your shirts to him. He's looking at you. “Actually, fuck yes. She just hired us without asking anything else.” You put down your stuff. “We could be a band of kiddie killers for all she knows,” you say, waving your hands in the air for emphasis.

 

Sollux pulls a face that says he's skeptical about this whole endeavor. “Well, we're only here because Gamzee was inexplicably attracted to this place, right?” Sollux asks. His horrid lisp mangles the word “inexplicably” into a ghost of language.

 

“Yeah, that was a little strange. But Gamzee's _really_ strange, so go figure,” you state, going back to your unpacking. “But what was really fucked up was the way he was so into that legend thing. The “Blind Prophet.” or some shit like that. He's probably hoping that of we stay here, he'll get a clue to his future or something equally as filled with shit.”

 

“We passed by dozens of towns and he gets attached to this one,” Sollux starts as he hops up onto his top bunk. “Maybe it's my latent psychic abilities kicking in, but _maybe_ this summer's going to turn out to be exciting. God knows all the others weren't.”

 

And Sollux was right.

 

When Gamzee comes back and says something that sets you off, you storm out of the cabin, you need to be alone. You stomp along the ground. The soil is soft and heat radiates off it, making you even more uncomfortable than you were to begin with.

 

You walk until you get to a different part of the camp, one that looks like it was a part of some sort of accident and wasn't taken down because it would cost too much. You approach one cabin that looks mostly intact save for a few burn marks here and there on it. It has electricity, you can tell that much from the wire running on top of it and disappearing into the ground.

 

You're looking at the building when a small girl with hardly any clothes on walks out of the forest behind the cabin. She's carrying a bundle of what looks like sticks, chalks, rocks, straw, an odd assortment of items.

 

You stare as she approaches you, seemingly not noticing your presence.

  
You decide to do the diplomatic thing and clear your throat.

 

Her head snaps to face you and she grins, sharp and menacing.

 

Your stomach clenches, and ice spikes stick through you. You want to run but you stay where you are, your shoes are stitched to the ground with the grass.

 

“Looking for a reading?” she asks, still smiling at you.

 

“What?” you ask, confused.

 

“Nothing, I just never get to say that!” she says, her words rippling with laughter.

 

She takes a step towards you and you take a step back. “Don't come near me.”

 

“Well we should at least know each other's names!” she says. Her voice rings like a bell.

 

“I'm getting the fuck out of here,” you say, turning around.

 

“Such a strange name,” she says, her voice closer.

 

“I'm just an odd guy,” you say, still turned away. You have not moved to leave yet, you just keep allowing her to stumble closer and closer.

 

“Well, I'm Terezi,” she says and she's suddenly right behind you. She takes a big whiff, you can hear the air sucking into her nostrils.

 

You turn around and she's right there. Her eyes are a sharp blue-green color with cloudy white centers. She's blind.

 

“You're blind,” you state at the same time she says, “You're the bright boy!”

 

“I am, indeed. Though not entirely,” she chuckles at the same you ask, “What did you call me?”

 

“The Bright Boy. I've seen you, smelled you, felt you. Babe just hired you, right?” She says, shifting her pile of assorted crap.

 

“I'm not the Bright anything. I'm getting the fuck out of here,” you say and you step back slowly.

 

She frowns at you and asks you not to leave, she has something to give you.

 

“I don't want anything from you, I'm just going to go and pretend I didn't just see a squatter.”

 

“I was going to tell you your future, though. I'm very good at it.”

 

“Wait, what. Back that up. _My future_?” you ask, your voice incredulous. You lean forward, you don't think you heard that properly.

 

She smiles again, her teeth knives and her broken eyes scratching at you. “It's a misnomer, I'm not really blind. I have tunnel vision, like looking through a straw, though I guess that _is_ legally blind. I'm the Blind Prophet.”

 

You stare at her.

 

As an afterthought she adds, “And you're the Bright Boy.”


	2. The Blind Prophet and Her New Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still has a playlist on [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/covertcalligrapher/the-predatory-wasp-of-the-palisades-is-out-to-get-us).

****

**2: The Blind Prophet and Her New Sight**

 

Her name is Terezi Pyrope and she is 18 years old.

 

When prompted as to why she was out here, she'd stated that at the age of 13, she'd been blinded from staring at the sun during a partial solar eclipse. At the age of 13, after her blindness, she'd noticed that the prophetic dreams she'd had, had started to replace what she once saw with her burned-out eyes. At the age of 13, her foster family did not believe her when she told them of her new sight. At the age of 13, she was brought from their care by child services.

 

At the age of 14, she ran away. At age 15, she arrived in this town and has been living in this section of the camp ever since.

 

“Babe believes in my visions, and she lets me stay here,” Terezi says. You are sitting in her cabin thing, and it is downright _odd_ in here.

 

The walls are covered with strange scribbles and ramblings, pictures and scenes. The tables in the room are littered with more pictures and small, strange effigies of people you can't place. The floor is covered with sticks and straw. Piles of charcoals and chalks dot the floorboards. She walks on it all without an shoes.

 

This is weird, fucking strange. You're in a burned-down cabin with a lunatic who says she can see the future. This feels vaguely Satanic.

 

“Now, your name was, what?” she asks, pacing in front of you. She reaches down and gropes for a piece of chalk. She comes into contact with one, licks it, and smiles. “Red!”

 

“Should I really be telling you that?” you say as you watch her scribble on the wall with the chalk. She takes a big whiff of the dust it expels and grins even wider.

 

“The real question is, do I know it already!” she says, cheery and smiling. She turns to face you, her almost-entirely-blind eyes scoping you.

 

“I doubt you do.”

 

“Well, I can try,” she says as she walks over the floor to you.

 

You're sitting on the edge of the bed and she sits next to you. You flinch away, but she grabs your wrist in one of her thin hands, leaning over to you.

 

She breathes deeply, leans in, and licks your face. She removes her hands and presses them to her eyes, hard.

 

You are completely disgusted, you're sputtering and frantically wiping your face to scrape her spit off of yourself. “The fuck!” you shout and it's the only intelligible things you can say right now.

 

She, however, is fine. “Red, you taste distinctly red, like cherries. But your voice is harsh, like gray ash and coal. Your smell is sweet and bursts like red, again, more cherries, but you're _voice_. This is _exciting!_ ”

 

You're still shaking with anger and disgust that she _licked_ you.

 

She notices your stunned silence and says, “I had a vision about you two weeks ago, it was pretty far away.”

 

You're still silent.

 

She continues. “You, you were the bright splotch of red I saw. There were two more with you, though, one tall, thin dripping of purple and another. The other was strange, too. He was delicious, two blurry stains of red and blue. But his voice was disgusting, spicy and tasted like mustard.”

 

Is she talking about Sollux and Gamzee? “What, were you hiding in the trees or something?”

 

She frowns. “I was _today_ because I _knew_ you were gonna _be here_.”

 

“That's a bullshit answer, and I'm going to be leaving now.” You get up to leave.

 

She hops up and dashes in front of you. “Wait! I still have something to give you!”

 

You pause in your retreat from her cabin. You stand there and wait for her to give you whatever inane object so you can just leave and take a bath because she _licked_ you.

 

She comes back and places three small dolls in your hand. They're made from twisted pieces of straw and have faces that are crudely drawn on in different colors of chalk.

 

She also hands you a postcard from the local drug store that says “Greetings from Niagara Falls!” on the cover. You are currently nowhere near Niagara Falls.

 

She closes your hands around the items and says, “Your two friends, give the tall one the purple doll and the one that can't talk the yellow one. The red one is for you.”

 

You look at them. The one that can't talk, that must be Sollux. The tall one, she's probably talking about Gamzee...

 

What are you even thinking, she's _insane_. She thinks she can see the future, she's probably just overcompensating for her lack of eyesight.

 

“You need to write to your dad, too,” she says, tapping your left pant pocket. Your necklace jingles around slightly. “He's worried about you.”

 

You stand there, extremely unsettled and slightly disturbed. She smiles and tells you to go, she'll be seeing you soon.

 

You're about to walk down the steps that lead from her cabin before she stops you for a final time. “Oh yeah! Don't tell anyone I'm here. As far as the counselors know, this shack is an extra that's not used and locked all the time. As far as the kids know, it's haunted. Give your friends the dolls but don't tell them where you got them, okay?” she asks, her face sincere and her smile small. “And tell your friends to hide them where no one will look.”

 

“Uhh...” is all you say as you glance down at the items she gave you. “I guess so? Sure.”

 

“Great!” she exclaims, jumping in her spot. “Oh, yeah. Don't tell Babe either. I'll tell her eventually, after she finds those dolls.”

 

“But you just said--” you start but she shoves you down the steps.

 

“Time to get going! It'll be 5 o'clock soon, and Babe will want to speak to you.” And with that she shuts her door.

 

Shit, it's five already? You've really just been wandering haven't you.

 

You get up and start walking, this day just getting more and more surreal. A blind girl living in the forest, getting hired to do a job you have no experience for, actually leaving your home and ending up in a random small town where the locals believe said blind girl can see the future.

 

You examine the items she dumped on you. Three dolls of varying sizes, each with a face scrawled on them. The smallest has an angry, red face scribbled on it. You assume that to be “yourself.”

The tallest one appears to be Gamzee with a happy face drawn in purple chalk. The one that is somewhere in the middle in regards to size has a dull face drawn harshly in yellow chalk.

 

This is not normal, this is the opposite of normal. Blind girls can't see, let alone know all of the things she guessed about you. The real kicker was the goddamned postcard. How the fuck did she even get a post card for Niagara Falls? How did she know you wanted to write to your dad?

 

You think is all very suspicious. when you stumble into the main camp, still ruminating on the objects and what all of this means, you see that there are numerous vans and many people running about. You walk forward until Gamzee spots you. He runs over to you and hugs you, saying he was worried, you were gone for a long time.

 

“I'm fine, Gamzee,” you say, your face pressed into his chest. You wiggle around to get him off.

 

He lets go and looks at you. More specifically, the pile in your arms. “What's all that stuff you got fillin' your arms?”

 

You look down and hand him the tall doll. “I found these in the forest and was given strict instructions that we hide them.”

 

He takes the doll with wonderment. “Shit bro! Is this from that magic blind prophet noise?”

 

You say you don't know, you tripped over the pile in the forest.

 

“You were gone for a mighty long time, motherfucker,” Gamzee murmurs as he examines his effigy. “I got good vibes from this place, my brother. Trust me, this is the right choice.”

 

“36 hours ago, I was at my house,” you say for no particular reason. Maybe you're trying to see just how fast things have come to this. “Did you remember to take your medicine with morning?”

 

“Every mornin', brother.”

 

“Good, where's Sollux? I have to give him something.”

 

–

 

Gamzee pointed you in the direction of your smart-ass friend, but not before telling you to look out for a girl with a camera.

 

“Shit stings something vicious, brother,” he said.

 

Sollux is in one of the cabins, talking to a few of the counselors who arrived today.

 

“Hey dipshit, I have something for you,” you say as you bust open the wooden door.

 

Sollux is in the middle of speaking to a small, round girl and her tall, wide friend. “Can it wait, KK? I'm talking to some pretty cool people in my part of the camp.”

 

“Well, Gamzee's crazy wish came true,” you say, ignoring his request that you not speak. You dump the remaining items on one of the bends in the room and show him the medium-sized doll. “I tripped over a bunch of this shit in the woods.”

 

He takes the doll and looks at it. “What are you looking at?” the girl asks while her friend looks like he's trying to press himself into the wall.

 

“I have no fucking idea,” Sollux says, examining the crudely drawn face.

 

“I was told we have to hide these.” You nod your head to the girl. “And you are?”

 

She smiles, warm and sunny. “I'm Aradia, and this is Tavros. I've been counseling here for the past two years and now I'm going to have a partner on my nature walks!”

 

Sollux looks at you and wiggles his eyebrows.

 

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes and groan as the fake bursts of color explode behind your eyes. Such an idiot, you hate him, you hate him so much, such a dickhead.

 

You tell him to bury that thing or something, just hide it so only he'll be able to find it. He says sure and sticks it in his pocket He resumes flirting with the round girl.

 

You leave, frustrated that you'll probably have to remind him to hide it later. You stalk back to the counselor's cabin, angry and short with the world. An insect bites the back of your neck and you swat it with a vengeance fueled by your hatred of all things with an exoskeleton.

 

Your cabin has kids in it. They're all bustling about, packing and chatting with each other. You hear a tall girl screech with her friends how great it is to be back for another year!

 

You lurch to your cot when you see Babe coming towards you. You flounder to put the straw monstrosity into your pocket before she sees it.

 

“Karkat!” she calls, grinning wide and kind. “Where'd you disappear to for so long? Your friend Gamzee came to me in shambles asking if I'd seen you.”

 

You groan and shift on your cot. She sees the postcard and before you can say anything, lie about how you didn't find the blind vagrant she's hiding in the woods, she says, “Oh. You went into town for that?”

 

You nod and say, “I need to tell my dad where I am and really don't want to call him. So, what's a few cents?”

 

She says alright and leaves your space to go and talk to one of the other counselors, the amount of fucks you give is truly miniscule.

 

You sit there and get approached by no less than 4 separate people. You use the term separate loosely, for one girl with a camera had a friend who followed her around sullenly.

 

“Feferi Peixes!” she says cheerfully, extending her hand to you.

 

You look up at her and the first thing you see is how disgustingly beautiful she is. She's tall, taller than you, that's for sure. Her hair is long and thick and dark and hangs to just below her hips. It's all pushed away from a tanned, lightly freckled face that is smiling so intensely you think her cheeks might fracture.

 

You hold your hand out to her wordless, a little stunned by her.

 

She speaks and her voice is smart and sweet. “I'm going to be working at the lake with the kids this year with my frond, Eridan!” she says, gesturing to the sullen boy behind her. You hear her put extra emphasis on Eridan, as if dragging out the beginning of his name.

 

Ehh-ridan is looking pretty damn angry for a boy who gets to follow around someone who you are almost positive is a super model.

 

She elbows him in the gut to urge him to say something.

 

“Eridan Ampora,” he says as if disapproving of the very mention of his name. His accent grates of your ears and makes your teeth hurt. You can't tell if the white streak in his hair is real or he just bleached it.

 

You decide right there you hate him.

 

Ehh-ridan, however, does not extend his hand in greeting, which you guess means he can't be that bad a guy.

 

“Karkat. Vantas,” you say slowly, pointing at yourself. Feferi giggles and Eridan looks knives at you.

 

“Karkat!” Feferi says and she takes a picture of you with her old-fashioned-looking camera.

 

“What the fuck!?” you exclaim as you try to swipe away the blind spots in your vision.

 

Eridan chuckles meanly while Feferi's chuckle is bubbly.

 

“I'm making an album for this year's camping _ex_ -perience,” Feferi excitedly states. She pulls out the Polaroid picture and waves it around.

 

“Who the fuck even uses those anymore?” you ask, reaching for the picture. You stand to get a better grasp at it.

 

She holds it above her head, barely even reaching. “Nu-uh, this is going in my book.”

 

“Fef, just give it back. Ya can take more later. Maybe get 'im when he's sleepin',” Eridan says, reaching to take the picture from her grasp.

 

She looks at him and then you before handing you the picture. She pressed her thumb to it by accident while it was setting and there's a large splotch of colors over your face. It distorts the picture and you think about the blind girl in the forest. She said you were red. She called you the Bright Boy.

 

Whatever the fuck that means.

 

“Oh, this is terrible,” Feferi clucks as she bends over to look at the ruined picture. “I hate it when this happens. I guess I can't use it anyway.”

 

“Super,” you mutter as you shove the picture into your pocket. You'll dispose of it later.

 

Feferi says it was great to meet you and she leaves, Eridan in tow. He's either the most whipped boyfriend on the face of the planet or the un-victorious childhood friend. You feel a little bad for the poor asshole.

 

Nighttime comes shortly, only three hours later. Everyone goes to eat at around 6, but the cooks aren't here yet, so it's basically make-your-own-sandwich day. Gamzee eats three while you eat maybe half of one. It's too hot to eat.

 

Sollux pulls the round girl, Aradia, from earlier to sit by you. Her friend Tavros is hauled around by a tall girl with a penchant for the color blue. Her blonde hair is blue at the end, her shirt is blue, her jeans are bluer than they should be, her shoes are blue, her eyes are blue.

 

“So I heard you like the color blue,” is the first thing Sollux says to her.

 

She smiles and it reminds you of Terezi. “I heard you like to wear sunglasses indoors.”

 

Sollux nods at her and Aradia looks downright _miffed_. “Vriska, stop pushing Tavros around.”

 

“Aradia, it's fine,” Tavros murmurs. He sits down across from her and Vriska sits next to him. Directly in front of you. Jesus fuck.

 

“So, sis,” Gamzee says, his mouth full with turkey and cheese. It rolls around a little falls out of his mouth.

 

You hand him a napkin.

 

“So, brother,” Vriska replies. She grins and looks at you. “This is your small friend?”

 

“You two have met?” you ask disdainfully. You don't really enjoy her presence.

 

“Gamzee and I are both working the arts and crafts section,” Vriska answers, beginning to eat. She eats with her mouth open as well.

 

“Well it's great everyone's so well-fucking-aquainted. Why don't we all just go back to the cabin and braid each others hair? Oh, I know! We can all sing campfire songs and someone can play an acoustic guitar and it will all be so fucking _pleasant,_ ” you say tersely, slamming your hands down on the table and getting up. You're angry and you don't know why. Perhaps it's your constant ornery state, perhaps it's because you don't sleep, perhaps it's because everyone around you is such a goddamned dick wad 100% of the time.

 

You leave and when Gamzee follows you, you let him.

 

He follows you into the staff shower rooms. He follows you into the open shower you sit down in.

 

You sit there with your eyes open and your hands over your face. He sits down next to you.

 

“You wanna talk about it bro?” he asks, kindly refraining from touching you. His voice is soft and compassionate, completely _Gamzee_.

 

You groan, you're life is shit, it's crazy, you're not home and you suddenly have a job and you got _licked_ today. “I need to tell me dad we didn't get murdered by a serial killer and stuffed into a fucking gym bag. But I don't want to and I have a postcard from Niagara Falls and he's really not that bad, he's just so _nice_. I'm _not_ , and I like being an asshole but I hate being an asshole because the only people I have yet to drive away from myself are you and Sollux and I _hate_ Sollux.”

 

Gamzee still doesn't touch you, he just listens as your voice wavers and cracks as you break down a little. He's calm and you don't if what he says is to make you feel better or if it's a genuine query. “Why do you have a postcard to Niagara Falls?”

 

You bark out a laugh, short and harsh. It's funny, that's all he gleaned from that? You laugh again, longer this time and it bounces off the tiled walls, reverberating to the outside. Bent over, doubling from laughter, you roll over onto Gamzee's legs.

 

“I don't motherfucking get it, bro? You tell me to take you here and you want to up and go somewhere else already?” Gamzee asks, reaching over to pat your back.

 

You wipe a tear of mirth from your face and ask Gamzee if he remembered his medication.

 

“You already asked me today, brother.”

 

That's right, you did. Well, better safe than sorry.

 

You're laying across his legs on the shower floor and are only mildly disgusted at the thought of catching meningitis. “Gamzee, you wouldn't believe what happened to me today.” You rethink the statement. “Actually, you probably would.”

 

“Shoot it by me bro, and I'll be the judge of that.”

 

You tell him you saw the Blind Prophet. He doesn't sound surprised. You lean up to look at him. When you ask him why he's so calm about it, he asks you how you knew to hide the dolls.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say as you lay back down. You tell him about how she gave you the items and put you on your way. You neglect to mention that she's a real person. A real _crazy_ person, but a person nonetheless.

 

“So, run that motherfucker by me again; you said you met her?” Gamzee says after an extended period of silence. “What's she like? Is she a person or is she a ghost or something wicked bitchtits like that?”

 

“I can't really say, Gamzee.”

 

The two of you switch between quiet silences and soft conversations. Before you notice, the sun has set completely and night has taken everything over. Soft purples and blues fade to harsh grays and blacks.

 

Gamzee gets up and says he's going to bed, he's really fucking tired.

 

You decline to go with him, content to just lay on the cold tiles and contemplate the origins of your self-loathing. He leaves and you check the time: 12 o'clock.

 

“Shit,” you mutter, running a hand over your face and through your hair. You have yet to sleep since the end of your senior year and really should get a jump on that. Maybe you should go home.

 

Instead you lie on the shower room floor until there's a knock on the door.

 

“It's almost 1-in-the-god-damned morning, can't it wait?” you call to the intruder.

 

Instead of a biting retort or cold silence, you are rewarded with a harsh giggle and someone opening the door anyway.

 

You look over and see the blind girl striding over to you. She stops when her feet kick you and sits down by your head.

 

“You don't look so good, Bright Boy,” she giggles out. She's hardly wearing anything, you don't think she's wearing a bra and you doubt she's even got underwear on.

 

“Fuck you. And stop calling me that, it's not like it means anything,” you whisper hoarsely. You throw your arm over your eyes in a vain attempt to make her disappear.

 

“Well I have yet to find out your real name, but there will be time for that later,” she says. “I can see the future, remember? We're going to be great friends!”

 

“Fucking _super_. Care to tell me anything else about my life?” you ask, still shielding your eyes.

 

“Well, maybe we'll become more than friends. That is, if you don't act on your impulse to go home.” Her voice is nonchalant in statement and form. She doesn't waver in her words and seems very sure of herself.

 

You remove your arm to look at her. She's smiling down at you. You feel uncomfortably warm, even on the cold tiling. Her shirt barely covers her midriff and the shorts she wears are more akin to bikini bottoms than actual clothing.

 

“What makes you so sure of all of this?” you ask, tired and a little curious.

 

Her laugh is clear, reminiscent of a bell ringing. “It's colors shooting and dancing through my mind. I experience something and it translates to colors, sounds, smells and tastes. I _felt_ and _tasted_ and _smelled_ and _saw_ you contemplating going back home.”

 

“That doesn't even-fucking--make even an iota of sense,” you sputter out. You're unnerved and intrigued by the girl who lives by herself.

 

She smiles again, her clouded eyes crinkling to allow her mouth more room. “You see with your eyes, I can hear sounds and see colors. I can taste something and it will evoke a burst of color behind my eyes. I can smell something and taste the color is makes. You can see, but all of your senses are separate, they don't work off of each other. Mine do.” She looks down at you, taking in a fraction of your face with her afflicted eyes. “Each flows into the next. When I lost my eyesight, I truly learned that _seeing_ is not just with your eyes.”

 

She reaches out and drags a finger down your face. You flinch away from the touch and sit up. She's insane, all dark hair and pale, sunburned skin. Your voice shakes with anger and apprehension. “Don't fucking touch me. I'm not even sure if you're real or just a product of my sleep-deprived mind.”

 

She comes closer and you back away. The post card, ruined picture, and doll slide out of your pocket. Your chain stays put. “I said don't come near me!”

 

Instead of smiling or saying something, she reaches out and grabs the assortment of items. She feels them, even licks the picture and wrinkles her nose at it. She stays in a hunched over position for about 15 seconds, not moving a muscle.

 

Then she looks up at you and says, “You've met Sun Hands, then.”

 

“Goddammit, stop it with the stupid nicknames. If you really were psychic, I think you'd be privy to our _names_!” you spit, angry and frustrated and _tired._

 

She frowns at you, looking a little hurt. “It doesn't work like that.”

 

“Well, then how does it work? Because I've only seen you twice, but you're _really_ starting to grate on my nerves. You're annoying and you've got Gamzee enthralled without even having to look at you, which I have to admit is hard to do because _Jesus_ _ **fuck**_ _put some clothes on!_ ” You're getting carried away. You're shouting, the harsh sounds spilling from your mouth, vibrating and bouncing off the walls, magnifying your voice.

 

You stop yelling and come back to yourself. She's standing, looking like she would love nothing more than to put her bare foot through your face. Your items lay at her feet. “You're being insufferable!” she yells at you. “I see the decisions you make. I see what the future is and can be. I see that you can go back home or you can stay here, and you chose, _this time_ at least, to stay here.”

 

She frowns and then relaxes her face. He rubs her eyes with her hands and you're sorry for making her mad. Even if her story is total horse-shit.

 

You sigh and stand up. “I'm here because I needed to get away from home. I'm not going back.” After a thought you add, “Though I don't really know why I'm telling you this.”

 

She looks at you and sighs. “I'm gonna go home. But I'll be back to see you later.” She turns, her hands running along the walls of the shower.

 

“Wait!” you say as you reach out to stop her. You catch her shoulder and she actually stops for you.

 

“What?” she asks, agitated.

 

“My name's Karkat. Vantas. Karkat Vantas.” You feel like the only way to get her stop using those god-fucking stupid nicknames is to tell her your real one.

 

She turns her head and smiles at you, soft and glad. “Karkat,” she says once, tasting the word. “Two a's, and Vantas has two as well. Very red.”

 

“What.”

 

She leans in and breathes deeply through her nose. She laughs. “Your voice is still ash and _you're_ still cherry-sweet! Strange.”

 

“I think you're the goddamned strange one.”

 

She laughs again. “Sun Hands' friend. He's got an angry soul. Help him work on that,” she says before she pads to the door and leaves.

 

You stand there, staring at the door she left open for a few minutes. You then bend over to pick up your items and leave for your cabin. Inside your room, you use your phone light to write to your father.

 

_Dad,_

 

_I'm not dead._

 

_Karkat_

 

You leave your cabin, throw the post card into the mailbox by the main office and return to your bed. You sleep, lovely and dreamless.


	3. Greetings, Not From Niagara Falls!

**3: Greetings, Not From Niagara Falls!**

 

Waking up does not go exactly as you had planned. You are rudely awoken at 5:30 AM by some sort of mangled bugle playing. It signifies the beginning of a wonderful new day!

 

It also signifies that you need to get off your ass and clean the camp.

 

Gamzee is all ready to start the day. Sollux attempts to become one with his bed. You also, attempt to become one with the springs and plastic sheets, but Gamzee does not allow it.

 

He hoists you out of bed and says you've got to get a move on for the day, his wicked sister is gonna start snapping shots again.

 

“ _What?”_ you say, struggling from your position in the crook of one of his arms.

 

He yanks Sollux from his top bunk before answering you. “The girl with the camera, she's all up and taking pictures again. Little dots of colors that ain't supposed to be there are floating by.”

 

Sollux groans from on the floorboards, pulling his blanket off the bunk and curling into a ball. “Why do we have to get up, is the sun even up?”

 

“It's almost there brother, we just have to help it,” Gamzee answers, placing you on your feet.

 

Since sleeping is a lost cause, you decide to get ready. You get ready for the day and soon the three of you are reporting for duty along with the other counselors. There are a lot of them, about 30 or 40 and you're all lined up around Babe. She's holding a clipboard and pacing back and forth along a large table piled with papers.

 

“Alright guys, we've gotta get ready for the campers! They're coming tomorrow and you all have to know what you're going to do. And get the cabins ready for them! Now find your name on the sheet and take all the papers specified by your name,” Babe says, placing her clipboard on the table and telling you all to have at it.

 

You wait for everyone else to fight it out before you go up to the table. At your name, there is the instructions to grab three papers from three separate stacks. You do so and follow the instructions on them.

 

One tells you to go to a particular cabin. Another one tells you to clean said cabin. The third tells you to go and help organize the craft barn afterward. You grab a little pre-prepared box of cleaning supplies, a broom and rags sticking out of it. You think you see a pair of hedge clippers, but don't really have the energy to go rifling through the box.

 

You sigh and proceed to cabin 13. You'd probably think it's a bad omen that you got assigned this cabin, but you're not into that brand of fear. You have common sense out your ears and you don't mix in with that superstitious shit.

 

You reach the cabin with brandished iron numbers on it, proclaiming this shack to be the 13th in a series other identical shacks. It's a lacquered brown and the shrubs outside are awaiting a good trimming. You walk up the thin steps to the door and open it, the inside of the cabin dark and dusty. 

 

You place your box down and appraise the room.

 

Leaves have blown into the room and await to get swept out. Beds are piled on top of each other in a corner, their wire housing standing tall in the room. There are four bunk bed frames, making for a total of eight maximum occupants.

 

You sigh deeply and rub your hands over your face. You grab the broom handle and begin to sweep the surfaces in the room, pulling out dust and leaves and pushing them out of the room and down the steps. The dust flies up into your eyes, sprays itself around your lungs. You lean out the open door, your eyes watering as you sputter the dust from your upper respiratory system.

 

You finish your attack and then go back inside. The room, now being clear of dust, appears to be a much more habitable place than you had originally estimated. You wonder why no one has cleaned this thing yet, and figure Babe has waited for all the counselors to come and do her fucking job.

 

You grumble words of resentment to yourself as you pull bottles of cleaning fluid from the box and spray down the wooded surfaces in the room, cleaning them. Next, you clear the streaks from the windows. After they're no longer opaque with grime, you open them to air out the room.

 

As you're hoisting the beds onto the bunks, you hear leaves and twigs crunching as someone approaches the cabin. You don't go outside, instead opting to continue your manual labor.

 

You would have been completely fine, dead lifting thin plastic mattresses, but the person who had arrived outside had apparently decided that now would be a perfect time to begin trimming the bushes outside. And by trimming, you mean revving up a god-fucking chainsaw and hacking away at the shrubs.

 

You jump, startled by the sudden loud, jarring noise, the thin mattress slamming onto you as you hit the floor. You scramble out from underneath and jump yourself out the open door. You land and flail on the stairs, looking over to your left at a tall, thin girl hacking away at the bush.

 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” you shout at her. She doesn't cease in her chopping, her tinted face mask getting splattered with plant matter.

 

You shout your question at her louder, your voice cracking at the end of it. She turns to face you, the massive chainsaw turning with her. She balances the roaring machine on her hip and pushes her visor up, her squinting eyes a deep verdant green.

 

You see her say something, but it's lost to the furious machine. She turns off the chopper, waits for it to stop moving, and puts it down. She tugs a thick glove off one hand and then offers it to you, her skin a deep chocolate color.

 

“Kanaya Maryam,” she states as you take her hand. She shakes it briskly before letting go and taking off her other glove. She places them on the stair and then stands with her hands on her hips, appraising you.

 

“Karkat Vantas,” you say slowly, staring at her. She's wearing the same polo shirt you have on and shorts that are probably pulled way to high for comfort.

 

“Well, Karkat,” she begins, as she mounts the stairs and pulls you up. She dusts down your clothes and grabs your shoulders, straightening you. “Look sharp! Campers are going to be here tomorrow and we have to get these cabins ready.” She speaks with a practiced tone, tasting her words before she speaks them.

 

You slap her hands away and ask here what she's doing here.

 

“I'm trimming the overgrowth and I will be supervising your neighbor cabin, number 14.” She looks down at you, her impressive height surpassing your own. “You need to finish this cabin and then get cleaning somewhere else.”

 

You grumble at her and she walks down the steps. She bends over the sides and them emerges with a box filled with cream-colored linens. She stomps back up the stairs, her thick boots slapping plant matter onto the steps. She thrusts the box into your arms and tells you to dress the beds.

 

You do so with much complaint, and she returns to hacking away at the bushes. Once you're halfway through you wrestling the fitted sheets onto the plastic mattresses, her trimming ceases and she comes inside to help you with your struggles. She chats about what she's doing here, how she comes here every year, how her mother used to come here when she was smaller.

 

You don't say much past talking about your friends and discussing the local lore with her. She brings up The Blind Prophet, not you. When she asks if you've heard of it, you say yes. When she asks if you believe, you say no.

 

Some sort of twisted loyalty compels you to keep Terezi's secret safe.

 

You ask if Kanaya believes. She says that she does. Perhaps not that it's an ephemeral spirit telling people their futures, but that there is definitely something at work here.

 

You scoff and the two of you finish your work. She asks where you need to be next.

 

You pull out your responsibilities sheet from your pocket and refresh your memory. Art barn. Go and clean it. Probably with Gamzee and that Vriska girl.

 

“Art barn,” you say for her.

 

She brightens a bit, her black lips pulling up into a smile. “Oh, so you're going to be with Vriska.”

 

“Yeah,” you mumble, a hand going to tug at the hair on the back of your head.

 

“I've been friends with Vriska ever since we were younger, “ Kanaya continues. She turns and picks up the box all of your items were brought in. she hands it to you and then goes to get her own box.

 

You follow her out the door and ask what time it as she loads her gardening and torture tools into her crate.

 

She pauses and checks her phone. She whistles then reads you the time. “It's 1, we probably missed lunch.”

 

“Great,” you groan, your hunger finally settling into your gut. A hungry curl coils in your stomach and you huff. “What do you have to do next?”

 

“I have to finish clearing a fallen tree.” She sees the face you pull and tacks on an extra sentence. “No, no, we called people to remove it, I just need to cut away the part that's blocking the path it fell on. And as I'm the only person truly qualified to handle heavy machinery, I should probably get on that.”

 

She then muses to herself, as she picks up her crate, “Perhaps I'll get Eridan to help me move it.”

 

She turns to face you more and offers to walk you to the Art Barn. You being a complete moron who lacks any ability to properly gauge distance and direction, you take her offer to lead you out of the woods.

 

As you two walk, you ask her about Eridan.

 

“Well, Eridan Ampora is a first class asshole with a heart of gold,” she states frankly, her tone sarcasic.

 

You snort. “You speak so fondly of him.”

 

She laughs a little, smiling again. “Well, we've been on-and-off friends since we were little too. Him and Vriska had a thing, but that fizzled out pretty quickly. I'm kinda the friend they pull at to get back at each other.”

 

“Sounds like shitty friends.” You stumble over a twig.

 

Her voice is emphatic. “Sounds like extremely childish friends.”

 

“Well, don't you have any real friends?”

 

She looks at you out of the corner of her eye. “They _are_ real friends. I can touch them, and hear them. I think you mean are they really my friends. The answer is yes. Underneath their dumb behavior are some people who I think care about me very much.”

 

“You sound a little rehearsed.”

 

“Well,” she starts, dragging the word a little. “I've thought about it a lot. They're still assholes, but they're important to me.”

 

You rotate your shoulders, try to shrug off her words. You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I have a couple of grade-a shit stains for friends, too.”

 

“You don't like your friends?”

 

“I guess. No, well, they're fine and everything, they're just tiresome, I guess? They get on my nerves a lot.”

 

“Perhaps calling them shit stains makes them agitate you like that.”

 

You give Kanaya a generous “fuck you” and she tells you that you have arrived at the Art Barn.

 

You are surprised to see that it really is a barn. The building is large, wooden, and red, the paint appearing to have chipped slightly over the year.

 

“It's a fucking barn.” Your voice is flat.

 

“It's also where we keep the animals,” Kanaya states, moving around you to continue on her schedule.

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“Have fun with Vriska,” she says, a small smile on her face. She walks off and you don't really feel like asking her any more questions.

 

–

 

Cleaning the Art Barn is not a pleasant experience. When you walk into the space, Vriska and Gamzee have already cleaned and organized most surfaces, and have instead opted to waste their time completely.

 

You enter and see them trying to see who can weave the better basket or some shit. It doesn't really matter to you, they're wasting materials. You shit around with them for about 5 hours, Vriska and Gamzee jumping up and down, trying to snap your last nerve. She calls you shortstop, Gamzee calls you bro. Gamzee tries to paint your face a handprint of purple and Vriska attacks from behind with a palm full of red.

 

By the time you go to dinner, you're covered in paint and the two of them are spotless.

 

You eat dinner, a nice sandwich with Gamzee and his new entourage. Vriska drags Tavros over again, the large kid obeying her commands with a complacent face. Sollux brings over that small girl he's probably sweet on and chats with her. Kanaya spots you and she has to be the one person you don't mind listening to. Even though her appearance brings over Eridan and Feferi.

 

You listen to them and learn a lot of things you don't care about.

 

When dinner's over, you go to your room and collapse on your cot. Sollux emphasizes that it's only 8, c'mon KK, let's do something, let's punch something, let's go hang out with someone.

 

You wonder why he's being so eager for friendship and instead say that you intend to hang out with this mattress. You want to learn its innermost secrets and bond completely to it. You want to _become_ this mattress and learn its ways of bringing sleep to those who need it.

 

Sollux says sure, whatever, he'll be back in a few hours.

 

You sigh and fall asleep.

 

A few hours later, about 6, perhaps, you wake up. You groan and roll over, your muscles stiff from perhaps actually achieving becoming one with the mattress. You listen to the quiet in the room and gather that everyone is asleep, and you're not going to be getting any more shut eye tonight. Fuckin' perfect.

 

You sit up and sigh, rubbing at your eyes until fireworks explode behind your eyes. You stand up and move to your trunk, kneel down in front of it. You open it and rifle around aimlessly for your iPod or a book, something to keep you company. Instead, you emerge with the doll Terezi gave you.

 

You stare at its straw face for a few second before pushing all of your items in the chest aside and dumping the doll at the bottom. You cover it up again and shut the case. You stand up suddenly anxious. You remember sending the letter into the mailbox last night. Maybe you should write more? You want to get the letter back, tell your father that you're sorry for up and leaving like you did.

 

You leave the cabin quietly, creep through the deep blue night until you get to the reception cabin, the dented blue mailbox outside, standing guard.

 

You open the flap and stick your arm inside, rifle around for your letter. Your hand closes on a bunch of them, and you're about to attempt to retract your arm when someone taps you on the shoulder from behind.

 

You let out a frightening shriek, one that could certainly cause paint to peel from the walls. You fall a little, your body crashing into the mailbox and your arm getting caught inside. You turn awkwardly to look at your assailant.

 

It's Terezi,

 

She's bouncing back on her heels and her smile is bright in the darkness. “Scare ya?”

 

“Jesus _fuck_ , you almost killed me,” you say, your voice a little more breathless than you originally intended it to be.

 

She laughs, the noise smaller and more contained than others you have heard from her. She comes and sits down next to you, your arm still hanging inside the mailbox. “I thought I'd find you here.”

 

You try to free your appendage. “I should say you followed me, but how can you follow me when you can't see me.”

 

“I can see you just fine sir, a sharp red contrasting brightly with the deep blue night.”

 

“Whatever. What are you doing here?”

 

She frowns a little at you. “You needed someone to talk to, didn't you? And I need to tell you some things that you should be aware of.”

 

You snort, finally freeing your arm. “Super, you used your psychic abilities to deduce that I was having troubles.”

 

“Well, you don't need to be a psychic to see that you're unhappy,” she states, matter-of-factly.

 

You adjust yourself in your seat, your head going to knock against the mailbox. “This is all so fucking surreal. I'm working in a summer camp and got confronted with a chainsaw today. I'm sitting next to a blind runaway who claims to have clairvoyance.”

 

Her voice sounds a little hurt, but mostly mirthful. “I don't claim to have it, I _do_ have it.”

 

“Whatever. I don't want to go home, but I don't want to be here. My friends don't want to be around me, _shit I_ don't want to be around me.”

 

“I'm perfectly fine around you.”

 

Your quiet for a few seconds before you ask her, “What are you doing here? Trying to enact some form of righteous intervention or something?”

 

“No, I just wanted to talk. I find you fascinating, your colors don't match. I think you're utterly interesting and greatly look forward to hearing your gray words come from your red mouth.”

 

“You sound like a complete psychopath right now, who the fuck even talks like that?”

 

“When you can't use your eyes to describe things, you need alternate methods.”

 

She smiles and asks you about your home, why'd you leave. You bang your head against the blue metal a few times before replying that you wanted to get away from your father. She asks why. You say you just don't get along with him like you used to. He's too nice, you're too acrid. It's just you two, you're bound to grate on each other's nerves.

 

“Enough to have to run away?” she asks, a little incredulous.

 

You give a short barking laugh. “Says the girl who claims to have run away from home years ago.”

 

“Hey, that was not home. It was a house. With people.” She takes a deep breath and lifts a hand in front of her, sweeping it across the sky. She appears to aim to take to stars for herself, but they remain out of her grasp. “This is my home. I feel wanted here. Here, I have a purpose past living off government funded programs.”

 

You sit there quietly until she gives a thick yawn.

 

“You're tired,” you state blankly.

 

She gives a stretch. “Yeah, it's really late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.”

 

You pinch your eyes and they water a little. “Maybe we can continue out life stores at a different date.”

 

She crawls to sit in front of you, taking one of your hands into hers. “I do have some things to tell you first.”

 

“Like?”

 

“Like the Bad Sun. It roars a hard green, envious and jade. Your friend is the Sighted Seer, and he doesn't know how much he sees because he's never been without it. His friend, the little girl, the one with the kind eyes and dead speech. She's the Kind Ghoul, and her friend is the Clever Beast, they're all in trouble. On top of them are four kids, each one with distinct, different eyes. The Girl with Sun Eyes, the Boy with Clouded Eyes, the Boy with Wide Eyes, and the Girl with Dog Eyes, they'll be here tomorrow.”

 

You look at her like she's sprouted a third eye. Hell, she's probably just tossed you a line from her side of the deep end, trying to tell you just how nuts she really is.

 

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

 

She grins, malevolent and smooth, her teeth white and sharp. “They're going to need your help, and it's funny, because you're also the reason they're going to need help in the first place! I have people to help me, one a brave girl, a true Lionheart. The other is the hardest rock you can find, the best foundation in fractured a person, a flawed Diamond.”

 

She releases your hands and stands. “You're here for a reason, and I don't tell you it yet. But, I can definitely see the people you have reason for.” She turns. “Don't let them down, Bright Boy, Karkat.” She starts to walk off.

 

You stand and stumble as you follow her. “What are you talking about.”

 

She laughs, still blindly leading you through the dark. “I just told you. Now you know about as much as I do, what are you gonna do about it?”

 

You're silent in contemplation of her insane words. Then, “What you said doesn't make any _sense_.”

 

“It makes perfect sense to me.”

 

“That's because you are an insane girl who lives in a forest.”

 

“Well, maybe you should try to think like me, then.”

 

She stops, and you're at the counselor's cabin. She smile and gestures to the door for you, telling you to get to sleep, big day tomorrow.

 

You ask if she's gonna be back later.

 

She asks if you're growing fonder of her.

 

You make a disgusted noise and say of course not.

 

She laughs and says then yes, she'll definitely be back tomorrow.

 

You enter the cabin and she leaves. You lay down and close your eyes, trying to will yourself to stop mulling on the words she said. The bad son must surely be you, the terrible child who left his father. The sighted seer? Gamzee, perhaps, his constant drugged stupor surely impairing any abilities he might possess.

 

You fall asleep while contemplating the ramblings of the Blind Prophet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i finally updated after 80 years

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. This is a multi-chapter fic, so stay tuned.


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